The Princess and the Pauper
by imagine.believe
Summary: In an attempt to reconcile the demands of her two children: a romantic, yet no damsel-in-distress ridden tale, the Queen proceeds to tell them a tale of two people who lives worlds apart by strict social class, yet whose destinies are bound together with an inextricable bond. Harvest Moon's rendition of Barbie's "The Princess and the Pauper".
1. The Fireplace

**_Hey, everyone, I know I should finish Under the White and How Many Wonders Can One Cavern Hold (and Recto Verso, if you're reading it on the Fire Emblem fandom), but I can't really resist the temptation to write this one. Sorry..._**

**_Under the White, as I often did nearing my exams, will be put on yet another hiatus (sorry), until I finished my exams._**

**_How Many Wonders Can One Cavern Hold will go on slo-mo, too, let's see how it goes._**

**_I already had this idea for quite some time, but after reading tiedyedseashell's How I Met Your Father, I decided to use the same framing method to present this particular story. Good practice for me, too, I guess, because it's a new style for me. So, before anyone thinks I'm plagiarising or what not, I'd said it: I was inspired by the said author's prologue (and as such, How I Met Your Mother's prologue)... thanks tiedyedseashells ^^_**

**_But rest assured the story will be different! This is a HM rendition of Barbie's "The Princess and the Pauper" (no, no singing, sorry), although I would most probably borrow heavily on the novel, The Prince and the Pauper, as well. (just like I did with my Disney renditions, if you haven't noticed) So, I don't own both, okay?_**

**_Enough of me talking :P_**

**_I hope you find the ride enjoyable :)_**

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><p>An open book in her hands, two children on her lap, looking up in wonder as she read to them. The fire danced in the background, providing both light and warmth for the room as they placed themselves on the floor on that autumn night.<p>

"…and so, they live happily ever after," she closed the book in her hand and put it aside.

The elder, a boy, yawned unceremoniously whereas the younger, a girl, gushed at the romantic conclusion of the fairy tales… just like always. However, although we used the term "elder" and "younger", they were only half an hour apart from each other.

"Why does the prince has to do all the work?" the boy grumbled.

"It is romantic…" the girl sighed, still enraptured by the newly concluded tale.

"No!" her brother retorted. "It. Is. Annoying."

Their mother smiled. Such disagreement between these two was not uncommon. In fact, she had learned to incorporate "listening to the twins' argument" as part of her daily routine. The funny thing was: no matter how fierce their argument during the day was, they would go back to their room hand in hand. They slept that way, too, not letting go until the next morning.

"Mother," the boy called. "Why in all those stories, the princesses do almost nothing?! Can't they do something for themselves instead of waiting for someone to help them?!"

"Don't you want to be a hero?" his sister asked, her face showed a slight hurt from his fierce remarks.

"A hero doesn't mean you save the girl all the time," her brother replied with a sense of conviction. "A hero helps when nothing else could!"

The little girl puffed her cheeks, making her looked like a steamed bun. "You're just lazy!"

"And you want to be a damsel in distress? You're not my sister!"

Tears started welling up in the girl's glassy magenta eyes. Their mother clapped her hands three times. "All right, all right, enough of slighting each other for today," she said. "I have another story, but it is rather long,"

"I'd listen to it if the girl is not being a damsel in distress."

"But it has to be romantic…" the girl chimed between her almost-crying hiccups.

"I would let you decide that on your own as the story goes," their mother assured them.

Successfully recapturing their attention, she shifted her legs to a more comfortable position as the annoying pins and needles began to crawl on her toes. Her children followed suit, readjusting their bodies on her lap.

"So, let's see… where to start…?"

"Once upon a time…" the girl trailed off expectantly, trying to lure her mother to continue the sentence.

The mother smiled. "Well, before that, I would just tell you the title of this story," she said. "The story is called... 'The Princess and the Pauper',"

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><p><strong><em>aaaand... curtain call!<em>**

**_I know it is short, but this is just the prologue :P_**

**_As always, the story will feature my HM OC, Reine (my regular readers, hope you're not bored by her), Neil (like, duh), Allen and Gwen (notice I don't use Oxford's comma? :P)_**

**_Hope you're not giving up on me on this story!_**

**_Thanks for reading! Please rate and review! ^^_**


	2. Fire and Gunpowder

"What is the princess' name?" the daughter asked excitedly.

"Hm… let's call her Reine, shall we?"

"Reine?" her magenta eyes lit up, the tears much forgotten. "It sounds like my name!" she giggled cheerfully.

"Well, yes, it sounds similar with Renaida, I agree," the Queen smiled.

"So, the pauper is the 'prince', like Aladdin?" the boy asked, making the quotation mark in the air with his fingers.

The Queen ran her hand through her son's golden hair, relishing in its luxurious beauty. Even the fact that it was rather untamable—no brush seemed to be able to conquer the wild, sprouting ends of his hair unless his hair was wet after bath—made his hair had a certain aesthetic value to it. She gazed at the young prince lovingly; his magenta eyes were still untainted with the visions of harsh realities. Not yet, at least.

"Why don't we just start the story?"

* * *

><p>The knights were busy in training their swordsmanship, and the princess' eyes were unable to leave the sight of glistening blade while her ears were excited by the sound of clashing metals. She was five years old then, and it was one of the rare moments whereby her mother, the Queen Dowager, was well enough to bring her for a walk.<p>

She pulled her mother's hand, "Mother," she called, looking up. "I want to learn how to use that," her small index finger pointed at a knight who was raising his sword. The moment her sentence ended, the said knight delivered a critical blow to his sparring partner.

"Wherefore, child?"

"I want to!" she reiterated her request, but with more force. Just like many other children of her age, she wanted something without any explainable reason. She just… wanted it, and she wanted it badly.

"It is not proper for a princess to learn the way of the sword."

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><p>"She wants to learn swordsmanship?" the young prince interrupted. His eyes lit up like a freshly cut emerald being put under the sunlight. "That. Is. Cool—I like her already!"<p>

The Queen grinned. "Well, you have to listen to this…"

* * *

><p>The princess was never one to give up, especially once she set her mind to it. Having her request being turned down, she resorted into finding something—anything—that resembled a sword. She ferreted the castle during daylight, and when she approached near the kitchen, she heard a similar sound. She peeked in, and found one of the castle chef was preparing a meal; he was chopping a tomato finely—the sound she had heard was the sound of the knife beating on the cutting board.<p>

That very same night, she sneaked out from her room and made her way to the kitchen. There, she searched for where they kept the knives, took one that fit her hand, and began to swing it around just like the knights she saw the other day. Of course, she didn't consider how dangerous her action was then—she was rather reckless.

One of the maids saw the figure swinging around a sharp knife and thought of an armed thief. Alarm was raised and soldiers called in. The princess was not aware that she had caused the false alarm, so when the soldiers marched into the kitchen, she faced them with the knife on her hand and it was said that she had pulled up a fighting stance—unsteady, but passable.

The Queen Dowager was a conservative woman. She was gravely worried that her only daughter would not be an eligible bride for any man if she learned the way of swords. However, when the word reached her that the young princess had used a knife in lieu of a sword, she was thrown into a dilemma.

She consulted the Prime Minister. The Prime Minister was the late king's most trusted man, and as such, when the Queen Dowager was tasked to rule as the regent until the young princess marry an eligible—means noble enough—bachelor, he became her trusted advisor as well. Besides, the Prime Minister had exponentially wider experience in politics than the Queen Dowager—there was no reason why she could not trust him.

The Prime Minister was a man of around forty—perhaps fifty—years old. He was of a noble family—a minor branch of an old prestigious family although he was not the heir of his family's estate. His hair was dark grey, tied neatly into a short ponytail. He always dressed primly; his caveat never slacked off his neck and never a crumple on his coat or his pants. He loved to adorn an opaque black cameo to fasten his white caveat on his neck. He was a man who was quick in his thoughts and careful in his words—and as such, an excellent negotiator and orator. His eyes were sharp, and people said he never missed a good opportunity in politics. However, there was a certain coldness in the way he approached a matter; detached, almost emotionless. Too pragmatic, one might say.

Nevertheless, he was still the Queen Dowager's most trusted man.

The Queen Dowager spoke of her troubles freely and frankly to this wise man. She was already on edge by the thoughts of her only daughter turning into what she thought as a barbarian princess. True to his reputation, he quickly crafted a solution.

"Your Majesty," he spoke carefully, for the Queen Dowager had a gentle, sensitive temperament. "Why don't we provide Her Royal Highness with a teacher?"

"A teacher?!" she almost shrieked at the suggestion, only being held back by her strict sense of decorum. "Are you mad, Jude?"

"No, no," the Prime Minister calmly explained. "For this 'teacher' shall be one around her age," he put his hand over his coat pocket—which was placed directly above his heart—as he lowered his head slightly. "At this age, he has not switched to a proper sword himself—at most, he could only teach her how to hold a wooden sword. This would satisfy her desire to learn the sword without turning her into a… less-than-desirable bride."

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><p>Finally, they found the boy who they thought would be the perfect 'teacher' for the princess. He was the youngest son of a baron from the countryside—noble by birth, but of the lower end of the order of precedence. The family's ancestral seat resembled a rich commoner—the only distinction being the family crest being raised at the front entrance to the castle, as was the custom.<p>

His skills at the swordsmanship, reportedly, were of average. His social skills were even worse; he seemed to detest the company of many. When the court official came to his family's ancestral seat to see the boy in person, he spoke curtly with a perpetual scowl on his face.

This was the boy that the Prime Minister had chosen to be the princess' 'teacher'.

* * *

><p>"The princess, who had no idea of the Prime Minister's plan, was so excited to meet her teacher. Imagine her disappointment when she saw that her 'teacher' was a boy who is only two years older than her," the Queen's voice was heavy with empathy, as if the young princess' agony had been her own.<p>

"Aww that sucks!" the boy exclaimed. "I hate that Prime Minister!"

"He seems to be unpleasant…" Renaida pouted, her brows furrowed until they almost met each other at the middle. "That boy, I mean..."

"Oh, yes, he was," the Queen replied. "You couldn't ask for a more unpleasant person than he was!"

* * *

><p>"The Honourable Daniel Louis d'Évreux," the Prime Minister introduced the young boy with a satisfied look on his face. "He shall be your companion in learning the way of swords, Your Royal Highness,"<p>

Reine didn't hide her shock, and the boy, being at the court for the first time, showed total disregard towards court etiquette. He only bowed towards the Princess Royal—Reine's title as the eldest princess of the realm—when his father who had accompanied him pressed his head down, practically forcing him to bow down.

"You told me I would be given a teacher!" Reine protested, "Not a companion!"

"He shall be both, Your Royal Highness."

Reine shot a sharp glare at the boy, who had raised his head back. The boy, undeterred by the scrutiny of the rest of the court, returned her eyes with his equally fierce glare.

They were like fire and gunpowder; ready to explode the moment they were mixed together.

* * *

><p>"Hey, why that boy is named like me?!" the young prince protested, "I am nowhere as annoying as he is!"<p>

The Queen stifled a laugh. "Well, now you know you better make a good first impression to the ladies… and a sharp glare is not one of them."

Princess Renaida looked up to her mother. "Will Reine's sword training be okay?"

The Queen looked at the window. The stars had dusted the dark horizon with their tiny glitters. "That's the story for tomorrow," she decided. "Now, go brush your teeth and sleep."

"Can't you tell the story until we fall asleep, Mother?" the girl pleaded earnestly.

The Queen smiled at her daughter. "Tomorrow, darling," she said firmly.

Finally, the princess relented and took her brother's hand before walking out from the room together as always.

The Queen looked at her children's small back tenderly, marvelling at how two opposites could forge such a strong bond.

Then again, was she the one to talk against it?

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: The story is set in a fictional country, under an absolute monarchy system which male heirs (like usual) is preferred. While borrowing French names, the titles would follow English titles (the salutation and all that) because it is less confusing than the French one (plus, I don't speak French).**_

_**If you like the story so far, please fave/follow/review. I love reading your thoughts on the story ^^**_

_**Plus: any idea for the name of this fictional country? (yes I haven't thought of one, I have no idea) ^^**_


	3. Forge and Anvil

_Heartsky: thank you! I hope you will enjoy the rest of the story! ^^_

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><p>As expected, Prince Daniel—or Dan, as he was nicknamed by his family—and Princess Renaida, the Little Reine, ran towards their mother as soon as the lessons were over for the day.<p>

The Queen put aside her documents the moment her children running into the reading room. She rose from her seat and walked towards the rich carpet in front of the fireplace where she then placed herself. Just like always, the two young royals settled themselves around their mother. The Queen smiled when she sensed the childlike enthusiasm from both of them—even Dan seemed to be genuinely interested in this story.

"Where were we yesterday?"

"Sword training!" Little Reine answered almost immediately.

"Ah, yes, of course," the Queen nodded. She caressed her daughter's soft skin, tracing the powdered freckles on her rosy cheeks. She wondered whether these freckles had come from her or her husband. "If there's one thing about life you have to remember..." she looked at her children lovingly. "You can't predict _everything_…"

* * *

><p>Two months.<p>

That was what the Prime Minister had apparently told the chosen boy:

"Entertain the princess by teaching her how to hold and swing a wooden sword around. Two months and I am sure she will lose interest in it."

Imagine: he had to let go of his precious time, honing his own swordsmanship skills among many other things just to 'entertain' a royalty he barely knew. His family had practically pressured him into accepting this role, for perhaps it might lift the family's prestige in the court.

Can we really blame him, therefore, if he is so sour towards the princess during their first meeting?

On the other hand, the princess could not lie that she was excited to learn the way of swords, although her 'teacher' was not the one she had imagined. Only for this lesson, she was allowed to change her dress into the boyish short overgrown and black hose with flat shoes. She tied her hair into a ponytail and practically ran to the courtyard.

He was already there, two wooden swords in hand. He didn't bother concealing his scowl when he saw the girl approaching. The princess saw that, and her fiery temperament quickly evaporated her excitement into exasperation. Her grin disappeared, and he handed her one of the wooden swords—the lighter one.

She received it with her left hand and he raised his eyebrow.

"Do you even—"

"I'm left-handed," the princess interjected.

* * *

><p>"She's so honest," Little Reine commented in awe.<p>

Being left-handed was often associated with inauspiciousness: people believed something must have gone wrong during the pregnancy. As such, not many would openly admit if their dexterity happened to be sinistral, fearing that their reputation would be tarnished. This was even more so with the nobles, and the women—their marriage prospect was on the line.

"What happens next?" Dan asked impatiently.

"Well… they trained, of course, and he never told the princess of the two months mark that the Prime Minister told him," the Queen replied. "And that's where the Prime Minister made his first mistake…"

* * *

><p>Reine's interest in the swords did not diminish after two months. If anything, it had turned into a genuine passion for the disciple—both as a form of art and practicality.<p>

Of course, it didn't pass his eyes unnoticed. For all his reticence and aloofness, he was a sharp observer. He could easily differentiate between a fleeting affair and a true budding passion. He began to ask himself whether he should tell the Prime Minister of this. Besides, after two months, he found that the journey from his family's castle to the court was not as unpleasant as it used to be.

The boy finally decided to reveal it to the princess first—of what the Prime Minister had told him. Unsurprisingly, she reacted in her fiery temperament.

"Nonsense!" she cried out. "You believed him?"

"Do I have any reason for otherwise?" he retorted. "Look, all I knew about you were that you're a girl, and you're the only princess of this realm—how was I supposed to look at you?"

Silence.

It was the first time Reine had ever considered how people perceive her. All this time, she had never really given it a thought; she rarely went out. Every time she did, she only saw one kind of treatment: one of respect. Even older men would bow their heads when she passed, and she had never thought much of it.

It was his brutally honest question that opened her eyes.

"Look at me like…" she trailed off, biting her lower lip and hoping that the words would come out. "Like…"

"Look, I know I was wrong," he interjected, sparing her the pain. "But, I frankly don't know how to go from here."

An idea came into her mind.

"My family calls me Reine," she revealed. "I… well, it's nicer to be called 'Hey, Reine' rather than 'Hey,' you know?"

For the first time of their acquaintanceship, Reine saw a semblance of emotion besides anger and frustration on the boy's face. His dark eyes darted away from her as he nervously scratched his golden hair—oh, have I told you that he had the most beautiful, lustrous golden hair that the princess had ever seen?

"…Neil."

"Huh?"

"My nickname," he added. "Feel free to use it."

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><p>"Aaaww~ that's so sweet…" Little Reine gushed, her eyes painted with a dreamy look on them.<p>

Dan, always curious but very practical, immediately asked: "What happens then? Do they stop training?"

"Of course not," the Queen replied with a smile. "Princess Reine begged her mother to let her continue her training, and the Queen Dowager loved her daughter too much to deny her of her wishes."

"That's good… and then?"

"This is where, the dear Prime Minister made his second mistake."

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><p>The Prime Minister, although was shocked at the steadiness of Reine's interest in the swords, consoled himself with the fact that Daniel—from now on we shall refer to him as Neil—d'Évreux was an average swordsman. At least, he was supposed to be so.<p>

However, Neil turned out to be the kind who excelled under pressure of rivalry. Reine, being a quick learner, had almost caught up to him in terms of skills and proficiency after three years of training or so. She had never beaten him in a sparring, but there were two or three times that she almost did it.

Neil, wanting to defend his pride in front of the girl, trained laboriously on his own, and finally his skills shone. By the age of thirteen, he defeated his elder brother—five years older than he was—in a duel although this particular brother was given the moniker 'Chase' for his ability to chase his opponent to his defeat.

He then developed an affinity to dual-sword combat, in which he used two swords simultaneously in exchange for an off-hand shield. It was rare, even among the higher nobles, for not many would train their non-dominant hand in such a rigorous art—but he managed to develop his proficiency in this field, all by himself.

Reine had always wanted to prove herself to others—a side effect of being an independent soul in times where ladies were trained under such a strict guidelines on decorum. Neil was no exception—and so, she flourished under his mentorship no matter how unconventional the condition was.

At first, Reine was trained exclusively in small swords—under the Prime Minister's order, of course. Her first sword would be a gladius: a short sword that Reine called a 'big knife.' Neil, of course, was proficient in this sword, but his primary sword would be the classic knight's sword. His secondary sword would be an _estoc_—a longsword primarily used for thrusting attack.

Reine often pestered Neil to teach her how to handle his primary sword, and some time after her fourteenth birthday, he relented. They trained secretly, however, to prevent the Prime Minister's wrath. Soon, Reine was able to wield Neil's primary sword although she often strained her hand due to the weight of the blade.

She tried to hide it from Neil, and she thought she did.

On her fifteenth birthday, Neil gave her a new sword. It was nothing like she had ever seen before: it had a thin, double-edged blade but a sharp end. "You can use it for both thrusting and cutting," he told her. "And it's much lighter than my sword."

She traced her finger on the clean blade, and then tried her hand around the handle. It fit her hand perfectly.

"You… where did you find this?" she asked.

Neil looked away. "Some merchants."

If there was anything that Reine learned from Neil besides swordsmanship, it was how to read other people. Reine had become especially adept in translating what she called "Neil-ism": a language of an iceberg where there was much more going on beneath the scarcity of words.

Curt insults were the blanket for his vulnerable shyness.

Scowling was his defence mechanism against being stared at too long by strangers, which would induce his shyness. Then, the first one would happen.

As for his eyes, looking away meant: "Don't ask further. I can't find the right words to say."

Reine giggled and put the sword back into its scabbard. It just so happened that the hilt and the scabbard were scarlet in colour—her favourite colour—although she knew it might not be coincidental at all. "Thank you."

You might think that giving a lady a sword as her birthday present sounded insane, but it wasn't at all for either of them. For these two young people, who had come a long way from strangers to best friends, this thing that severed flesh had been the thing that joined them. Their bond, much like a sword, had been hammered on the anvil of their strenuous trainings, and put into numerous cycles of heated arguments and flaring frustrations—and it survived.

Therefore, what a better way to express their bond than a sword?

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><p>"A ring?" Little Reine quipped innocently.<p>

"Well…" the Queen trailed off, choosing her next word carefully.

"I read it in the book—blacksmiths can make rings, too, right?"

_Oh, the wonder of books…_ the Queen noted inwardly.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading! Please rate and review! ^^<em>


	4. Two Pendants

_Hey guys, thanks for the views and reviews! ^^_

_XxBlue and CrimsonxX: hey, welcome to this story! thanks for the compliment ^^ and yes, "Dominick" and "Erika" will be in... soon, but not very soon because I'm still trying to flesh out the dynamic between "Annalise" and "Julian" ^^_

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><p>"Besides their swords, both Neil and Reine had something they were never seen without…" the Queen began smoothly.<p>

"Which is…?"

"Their necklaces."

"They have matching necklaces?" Daniel asked incredulously.

"No, no, no—nothing like that," his mother replied almost immediately. "It just happens that both of them wore necklaces."

"How does it fit into the story?" asked the young prince, who was indeed sharper than most of his peers.

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><p>Reine's pendant had a rather peculiar shape—two circles, one bigger than the other. A part of the smaller circle was joined together with a part of the bigger circle on the latter's right hand side. The smaller circle was made of orange ruby and it looked just like how the sun would look like during sunrise.<p>

In fact, that was the kind of scenery depicted on the larger circle: a dawn sky with the sunrise. It was made by arranging rubies of different shades, and a light sprinkles of tiny diamonds as morning stars. Her name was inscribed at the back of the pendant, and it was said that this necklace was created to commemorate her birth. She was told that she was born during the sunrise—hence the design of the necklace.

There were times Reine asked herself why her pendant seemed to be… incomplete. The way the sun was popping out from the bigger circle sometimes bothered her—as if this pendant was incomplete on its own.

Meanwhile, Neil's necklace was his coat of arms, differentiated from his father's by the addition of a crescent sable. It served as a mark of his position as the second son in his family. The chain of this necklace was long enough to reach his chest, and he often wore it underneath his clothes, so not many knew about his necklace.

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><p>The story telling was interrupted as the door to the reading room, the room they were using, was opened. The King came in with a bundle of documents in his right hand. He walked towards the desk near the fireplace and sat there.<p>

"Hi, Daddy," Little Reine greeted softly, which was responded with an acknowledging nod by her father. It was enough to please the young princess, obviously, as she beamed into a huge smile.

"I'm telling the kids a story, so we won't be exactly quiet," the Queen warned him.

The King lifted up his gaze towards his wife. For a moment, there was silence, until he spoke: "I know."

The Queen let out an exaggerated sigh. "You can put it in a nicer way, you know, like… 'I know but I'll stay here anyway because I miss my lovely wife and wonderful children' instead of truncating everything into 'I know'?"

The King chuckled. "I know."

He put the documents he had been carrying onto the desk. He then took out a quill and opened the inkbottle nearby as he flipped the bundled papers open.

The Queen let out another exaggerated sigh, this time eliciting a slight chuckle from her husband. Sometimes, he did enjoy exasperating his own wife by his curtness. But mostly, he did that because he knew that those two words—I know—were all he needed for her to get the whole picture.

The Queen then turned back towards her children, who were still eager to know more about the tale.

"The two best friends spent their days together—practicing, mostly, but sometimes Reine would visit Neil's estate at the countryside."

The King halted his activity for a moment, glanced towards his wife, before deciding to continue his own work. However, his ears were tuned in to her voice. "It was a good change for the princess—the countryside is quiet and tranquil, much unlike the capital," the Queen continued.

"Countryside is nice…" Daniel nodded in agreement.

"It is, dearest," she agreed. "In any case, their days go mostly like this…

* * *

><p>…and they force me to balance the books above my head. Again!"<p>

Neil didn't even bother to look at her, preferring to see his own reflection on the blade he was cleaning. He wiped the blade over and over again with an oil-coated cloth, although by that time he could already see a blurred reflection of himself.

"The corset! Urgh! IT'S THE WORST EVER! They were trying to suffocate me, I swear!" Reine carried on, wiping her own blade. "I don't know how someone could breath in those foolish excuse of—what? Fashion? Damn yeah right!"

Cleaning your blade while angry was not a good idea, and Reine learned it the hard way. She pressed her fingers too hard on the cutting edge that the blade sliced through the cloth, leaving a deep graze on her fingers. Reflexively, Reine let go of her blade, and it dropped to the ground.

Only this time, Neil turned around and saw her bloody hand. He sighed and took a clean handkerchief from his pocket, using it to stop the bleeding.

Neil had… an uncanny ability to concentrate. Once he put his attention to something, he really blocked out everything else from his sight. Just like the blade before this, Neil tended to her fingers with nothing else distracting him.

Reine knew this trait of him very well, but it didn't mean that sometimes she was caught off-guard by his intensity. That day happened to be one of those days when she was… off-guard.

"Er… Neil?" Reine called. "It's just a cut—okay, some cut, but I made it in one movement," she tried to control her speech, cutting down the unusual stammer. "Point is… it's okay."

Neil put his handkerchief over her wound and folded her fingers into her palm. For a moment, his hand completely covered hers—and only then Reine noticed how big his hand was. It was warm, too, although the princess chose to dismiss that due to the chilly autumn day.

"I know…"

* * *

><p>"That's so sweet~" cooed the young princess.<p>

Taking a break from his work, the King looked up to his daughter. Her small figure was clothed in her favourite colour: pink. Her eyes were round and full of dreams and expectations. He wondered whether she had gotten than from her mother, because he was sure as hell he didn't have that in his childhood.

His wife's voice came in to lull him next.

"One day…

* * *

><p>"A ball?"<p>

"Yes, Your Royal Highness," the Prime Minister affirmed. "To commemorate your sixteenth birthday, a ball would be held—inviting many eligible bachelors."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—hold on there, you speak bachelors?" the princess raised her eyebrow. "Is this my birthday or some sort of matchmaking ceremony?"

"Her Royal Highness the Princess Royal," the Prime Minister spoke softly. "Do you not think that it is already time for you to consider marriage?"

The Prime Minister's eyes darted towards Reine's sword—the one Neil gave her. "That is the greatest duty of a princess' to her kingdom—marrying a noble bachelor to sustain her family, and the kingdom."

"Your days of playing around cannot go on forever, Your Royal Highness…"

He might have a point. Politically speaking, he made perfect sense. However, who is he to say that she is playing around when she holds her blade?

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><p><em>Thanks for reading! Please rate and review! ^^<em>


	5. The Lost Daughter

_Hey all, thank you for the support for this story! I hope you will enjoy this chapter ^^_

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><p>The King sheathed his sword on his side as the last equipment that he would bring with his person. The King of Auvorgne was indeed known to be a very cautious person; his habit of carrying his sword with his person was already well-known about the neighbouring kingdoms.<p>

The Queen entered the room, and sighed heavily at the sight of the suitcases and her armed husband. "Going already, huh?"

The King turned and put his hand on her head and stroked it gently. The Queen sighed even more heavily than before. "I want to come along!"

"I know,"

She crossed her arms in protest. "Do you have ano—"

She was interrupted when he planted a kiss on her forehead. Although it was not uncommon—especially so when they were alone—it always shocked her when it happened.

The King smiled. "I'll be back in a week," he informed her. "And I already asked the servants to keep the room warm."

"How do you…?"

The autumn breeze these days were indeed colder than the Queen was used to. However, she thought it was no bother, hence she told no one about it, thinking that it would pass by itself.

"Know?" he smirked, one habit that he never got quite rid off every time he turned out to be right.

This time, the Queen couldn't help it but smile as well. "You always do," she agreed.

"Besides, the kids seem to be very much entertained by your… story," the King carried his suitcase himself as they walked out from the room and towards the long hallway. "You would upset them if you go now."

The Queen grinned. "You have a point there, I guess…"

Just as he mentioned, the two young royals emerged at the voice of their parents. The princess was clearly displeased by her father's journey, her mouth curving downwards albeit only slightly.

The King put his hand over her head affectionately. The Queen sometimes teased him that the colour of her hair was magnetic to his touch—and he didn't disagree.

"Be a good girl," he said. "I'll try to get something from Elsasse on my way back, okay?"

"Okay…"

"How about continuing the story after we see Father off?" the Queen suggested, and as expected, it lifted up the mood.

* * *

><p>After the King's party had disappeared from their sight, the small royal family retreated into the reading room. Just like what the King had told her before, the room had been warmer than she remembered yesterday.<p>

They sat down near the fireplace. "Is it too warm for you?" she asked concernedly.

She could see that sweat started forming on her children's forehead, but both of them shook their heads in unison. _Strange,_ she thought to herself. _They are being too… too… synchronized?_

"What did Father tell you both?" she asked immediately.

The young princess, ever honest, blurted out. "Daddy told us that Mommy is—"

The prince put his hand over his sister's mouth, having more tact than his sister. However, the deed was done and they were still far below the level of deceiving the Queen.

The Queen smiled at their good intentions. She decided to sit a little further away from the fire, although with her back still facing it to shield her children—and keeping herself warm, of course. The children quickly settled on her lap.

"So, the last time we were talking about the princess' ball, right?"

"Yep!"

* * *

><p>To prepare for the ball, Reine was forced to wear the tight corset for days so that she would be accustomed wearing it for a long period. She was expected to dance in it, too, so she had her dancing lessons wearing the corset. Her sword practices were cut down to make for more dancing, much to her annoyance. She hated when her routine was forced to change, especially for things that she deemed to be less important.<p>

However, there was a limit in how Reine could have it her way, and she knew it. She begrudgingly followed the new schedule that the Prime Minister had laid out for her.

_He even cut off my foreign language lessons, _she noted inwardly. Besides for sword, the princess' passion indeed lied in learning foreign languages—and thanks to that she had mastered eight languages before she was sixteen.

One day, two weeks before the ball, Reine twirled around in her plain dress—she was never one for elaborate dresses unless it was utterly necessary—and she tripped on her feet. She smashed the floor head first, and she rolled her body, panting heavily.

"Can't—breathe!" she forced the words out from her mouth while hitting her stomach repeatedly.

"At this rate, the ball—"

"WHO CARES ABOUT THE BALL?!" Reine cried out in frustration while still lying down on the floor. Before she could hold it back, her tears gushed out from her eyes—her pent up frustration finally surfacing. "You said this was for my birthday—but I don't want a ball at all!"

"Your Royal Highness—"

"GET OUT!" she demanded. "Get out! Get out!"

The instructor—someone hired specifically to prepare the princess for her ball—was unaccustomed to her temper and thus was shocked—I think even that word is an understatement. She exited the room hurriedly, leaving the princess alone.

That time, she didn't understand the importance of that ball and how it would shape her story—for better or worse.

* * *

><p>The night before the ball, just like any other night before her birthday, the Queen Dowager held a ceremony known as the Candle Ceremony. Paper boats carrying a small candle each were sailed on the river that ran around the kingdom. The current of the river would bring these glowing ships one whole round the kingdom. Her mother had never told Reine the significance of this particular ceremony, but this year was different.<p>

She asked Reine to come with her to the balcony, where they could see the course of sailing of these small boats. As the Queen Dowager's eyes followed the formation of candle boats from where she stood, she began speaking:

"You had a sister,"

Reine turned to her mother, holding back her breath. "Truly?"

"Yes," she affirmed. "But she was…"

Reine saw tears coming out from her mother's eyes. The Queen Dowager wiped it carefully before the next word rolled out from her tongue. "…dead."

"Mother…"

"No one knew how it happened. One day, she was stolen from her crib and a few days later we received a dead baby."

The Queen Dowager turned towards Reine and touched the pendant hanging on her neck. "Her pendant had the scenery of a starry night with a pale crescent moon," she recounted. "And if one brings the two pendants together, it would be a perfect match. A complete picture… of a scenery of the changing sky."

Reine looked down on her pendant. Now she knew why it felt that her necklace was incomplete—because it truly was.

Reine was not angry with her mother, not at all—she knew her mother must have her own reasons for concealing that fact from her all these years.

She had questions, though, tons of them… but sometimes you have to just keep these questions buried in your heart lest you rub more salt to the reopened scar.

So, she kept her peace, trying to calm down the rising uneasiness in her own heart.

The Queen Dowager inadvertently answered one of these questions, though, as she wept for the daughter she lost.

"Guinevere…"

* * *

><p><em>Stay tuned for the next update!<em>

_Thanks for reading! Please rate and review! ^^_


	6. Intervention

The paper boats floated along with the gentle river current. Each year, it had never failed to pass by a small village in the territory of Baron d'Évreux for generations. Each year, she had never failed to miss it and took the first boat of the group.

She didn't know where it came from, and she didn't know why she had that urge to take the first boat. However, she had been doing that ever since she saw the glowing convoys when she was five. Now she had ten boats kept safely in her room with the remaining of the candle inside intact.

This year, she waited at the same spot. She smiled when she saw the boats approaching her, and she put her hand in the cold water in anticipation. When she bent down, her pendant slipped out from her dress and hung freely on her neck.

With a satisfied smile, she took the first boat and put it up close. It shed some light to the pendant. She had had this pendant worn around her neck as long as she could remember—a very strange pendant.

What, you ask?

It was a pendant with the scenery of a starry sky. On the top left corner, there was a moonstone cut into the shape of a crescent moon popping out from the otherwise perfectly round pendant.

* * *

><p>The ball on the following evening was a grand affair, with no expense spared. Many young sons and daughters of the nobles whose age was around the Princess Royal were invited—although the emphasis was put on the <em>sons<em>, especially towards the senior nobles.

Reine's ball gown was scarlet, with golden embroidery. It was, just like many ball gowns, cut off rather low at the shoulders and decorated with shaped laces and such. However, the difference lied in how the tailors had decided to sew in multitudes of tiny cut rubies to the skirt, making them sparkle when being hit by the light. Reine's pendant was fitted into a pearl choker, which she wore around her neck—and she thought it looked like an expensive dog-leash. She wore opera gloves of the same colour of her dress. For today, she was asked to wear a tiara—and she had no choice but to obey. Just like the rest of her attire, the centre stone for her tiara was a ruby.

Actually, Reine had asked whether she could bring her sword to the ball. It was scarlet in colour, anyway. However, the Prime Minister had laughed at the question, and looked at the princess as if she was some madwoman. Well, I guess… you don't take your sword to the ball—especially when you're in gown.

Finally, Reine made her entrance to the ballroom, emerging from the raised stage. Everyone turned to face her and gave her a round of applause. Many gushed over the dress—either because of the sparkly skirt or the intricate golden rose embroidery that was fitted into the dress. Reine looked around in nervousness—she didn't recognize anyone.

Then, a young man that she had never seen before walked up the steps. He stopped two steps away from the top, and bowed politely. "Your Highness, may I?"

He offered his hand and Reine glanced aside to her mother. The Queen Dowager nodded encouragingly. Reine sighed and faced the young nobleman. "This is my birthday," she announced. "I would be very pleased if I am allowed to choose who I shall dance with."

The announcement, needless to say, shocked everyone in the ballroom. However, Reine had phrased it in such a way that no one could argue… it _was_ her birthday, after all.

Hence, all the eligible gentlemen soon formed a line, in accordance with their order or precedence. It began with the eldest son of the most senior Duke on the court, which happened to be the same young gentleman who had walked up the steps.

If the young gentleman had bowed and offered his hand, but Reine didn't curtsy back and take his hand, it was taken that their offer was rejected.

One by one, the young gentlemen of the society faced their rejection. The adults, who were watching this ball to see whom the Princess Royal fancied, began to feel anxious.

"Dear daughter," the Queen Dowager whispered after the line had been reduced to half of its original length. "You _must_ dance with someone."

Reine stood her ground firmly, even as the line was getting shorter and shorter.

Finally, a young man emerged. He was tall and lean, with fair complexion and sandy blond hair. His eyes were amethyst and sharp at the end, just like Neil's. After a closer scrutiny, Reine finally recognized him as Charles d'Évreux, or simply called 'Chase'.

"Happy birthday, Your Highness," he said. "I would love to dance with you, however, you know what people say, right? Save the best for the last."

He didn't go up to offer his hand. After saying his piece, he simply turned back and walked away. It was then Reine saw her childhood friend in his court attire. It was magenta in colour, with golden trimming and shoulder pieces. His pendant was now visible, hanging in front of his chest. His hair was still as messy as usual, but somehow it felt… different. Actually, it was the first time Reine had seen him in formal attire.

Neil cleared his throat in a failed attempt to disguise his nervousness before he walked up to the stage. Just like many before him, he stopped two steps away from the top and bowed slightly and offered his hand.

"Are you the last?" Reine asked.

"Obviously."

Reine chuckled. "Then, I have no more choice."

The princess grabbed the sides of her skirt and fanned them out slightly as she bent her knees and bowed. She then took his hand, much to the surprise of many in attendance.

The pair then walked to the centre of the ballroom as they turned to face each other. Much to her surprise, she was only of the same level with his chest, directly facing his pendant. The last time she remembered, which was the first time they met, they had been of the same height.

Reine looked up. "You're so tall…" she murmured.

"You just realized?"

Reine put her right hand on his shoulder lightly, while her eyes were still transfixed to his face, now looking at it from a different angle. Of course, actually she had been looking at him from this angle for quite some time… but she had never really realized it until now.

As for Neil, he put his hand around her waist, and felt that it was… hard.

"It's the corset," Reine remarked under her breath, finally snapping back to her senses. "Shut up."

"I haven't even said anything," the young man protested.

The conductor finally raised his hand, and the slow music was played in the hall. The young pair slowly glided across the room, rather awkwardly at first, but slowly getting the rhythm of things. It was just like with their sword practices, I guess, a rough start before a smooth proceeding.

In any case, they were so entranced by each other that they didn't realize that they had been watched.

* * *

><p>"By whom?" Dan asked, his tone suggesting that such an act was so wrong.<p>

"Well, they were at the centre of the room," the Queen replied. "So, naturally, the other ball attendants are watching them…"

"But it's so romantic!" Little Reine exclaimed. "I bet Neil found Reine to be sooo… sooo… pretty!"

The Queen chuckled. "I wonder about that…"

"What happens next?" the ever on-the-task prince asked.

* * *

><p>It happened two days after the ball. The Prime Minister told the princess that someone had been appointed to guard her round the clock.<p>

"Personal bodyguard?" the princess responded incredulously. "What for?! I didn't learn swordsmanship for fun, you know!"

"Still, Your Highness, your safety is of paramount importance… considering your position as the heiress to the throne," Prime Minister countered. "And rest assured, this person is highly skilled."

The door was opened to reveal the person in question and… guess what?

It was Neil.

"Neil?!" Reine gasped (at this time, the children also gasped in surprise).

"He had agreed to take up this position," the Prime Minister explained.

"Neil!" she said. "Why?! What happened?! What the—you are not some common soldiers!"

"It's not unusual for the bodyguards of royal families to come from a noble house," Neil replied nonchalantly. "From minor noble houses, that is…"

Reine glared at him. "What are you trying to say?"

Neil didn't reply her at all but he glanced at the old man, who was now standing between him and the Princess Royal. Truth to be told, he wasn't surprised when the Prime Minister basically came to his house and _appointed_ him to the position. He wasn't given a choice to refuse.

Neil knew what the Prime Minister was actually trying to get across to him. It was politics, after all, and oftentimes it was the unsaid that was the core of everything. This was just another example of it, and he knew it.

"Your Highness," the Prime Minister interposed calmly. "The reason why a bodyguard is needed is because a meeting had been arranged for you."

"Huh?"

"The monarch of our neighbouring kingdom. He is young and unmarried."

Reine held her breath, knowing what would come next. Meanwhile, Neil simply watched the scene in silence.

"The meeting is set for the day after tomorrow."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading! Please rate and review! ^^<em>


	7. Switchover

_Hey guys, I'm so sorry for the long update! I went back to my home country and I didn't know initially that accessing this site from Indonesia could be quite tricky. It took a while to figure out... and then I had a family trip... but now it's here! Thanks for waiting! ^^_

_ToOH: Maaaybe I get your hint? (a duel between Reine and her suitor?) Did I get it right? Or a duel between Reine and any other guy?_

* * *

><p>"Did you know about this before?" Reine asked immediately after the Prime Minister left the room.<p>

Neil stayed silent, but Reine had known him too well that she could take his silence as an answer on its own. "You jerk! I thought we were friends!"

"And I thought you knew you were, after all, the only princess of the realm," he replied calmly.

"I do!" she cried out, "I just thought…"

"We're not kids anymore," he interjected. "We can't keep fooling around doing what we like just for the sake of doing it."

"So you thought I learn the sword just because I like it?"

Neil stared at the princess for a moment. They never talked about it, but of course he could guess her underlying reasons, considering her person. True, she really loved the art of swordsmanship and her interest in it had been the initial reason of her learning it. However, she still honed her skills long after that 'honeymoon' period had passed. She survived through numerous twisted wrists and a few fractures—and her fire still burned bright. Obviously, there was more than a simple love for the art in it.

"At least the Prime Minister believed that to be the case," he finally said.

She bit her lower lip. She always bit her lower lip when her emotions started to overwhelm her—a habit she never let go completely. And he knew she was holding back her tears as well. Of anger or sadness, or a mixture of both, he couldn't figure out just yet.

Reine knew that she could be rather hard to understand. She didn't, after all, fit in the mould of high-class ladies of her era. Many thought she was simply a spoiled princess, being the only child—and she would admit that she could be rather headstrong. But she had thought that Neil was different—that he understood her… the way she thought she understood him: they could read each other patterns, starting from their practices and ending to their reactions in general; they could finish each other's sentences in their heads, and they knew it. She had thought Neil, given their long friendship, was different.

In the end, Neil was just like any other. To him, she was no more than a princess whose fate was to get married for the sake of the realm.

The princess turned on her heels. "Where are you going?" Neil asked, instantly alerted by her action.

"Horse riding," she replied. "Following the Auvorgne River."

"That means you want to circle the _whole_ kingdom?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"The last time you did that, you were attacked by bandits," Neil objected. "Your hair is too conspicuous!"

Reine turned around, with a strange object in her hand. At a glance, it looked like a rag, but on closer look, it wasn't even a cloth to begin with. He held his breath, and Reine grinned in satisfaction. "Smart, right?"

There was something peculiar in the way Reine grinned—at least for Neil, there was. Something about the way her dimple showed up only when she grinned but not if she simply smiled. More than that, however, was the way that grin… defeated him, in a way.

He still remembered the horrendous excuse of a cake she baked. They ate it together—they had to, destroying evidence—and they couldn't get up from their beds the next day. She grinned that way the next time they met, and he couldn't do anything but to yield.

He hates that grin almost as much as—well, shall we say it now?—he loves it.

* * *

><p>"So… Neil loves it more than he hates it, right?" Little Reine asked innocently.<p>

"What do you think?" the Queen threw the question back to her children.

"I think he does," Dan replied. "I won't stay friends with a girl that gave me diarrhoea unless I love something about her so much."

"That's actually a good point," his mother agreed, chuckling.

"So, what happens next?"

"This time, I would tell the story of Gwen."

"Gwen?" her children asked in unison.

She nodded.

* * *

><p>Gwen was, to the village's knowledge, the only child of a poor couple. They were poor in many sense of the word: poor in terms of their earnings, and poor as in 'unlucky'. The wife was the town's seamstress, but she was afflicted with frail body, preventing her to toil for her family. The husband used to be the palace soldier, but his bad temper caused him to be dismissed from his service and he became a jobless drunkard.<p>

Gwen often found herself being the target of her father's temper. If she were lucky, it would be empty fist—but when she wasn't so lucky, empty glasses were not infrequent. When her mother had been around, she would have protected her. However, after her mother passed away last month, Gwen began to wonder how long her mother would need to wait for her in the after world.

He was especially furious when he found out her collection of paper boats. He destroyed her collection, throwing anything that could be thrown across the room. Her paper boats were flattened, crumpled, or torn apart. None made it… even the newest one from last night.

Gwen threw herself in front of her father. "Papa, please! Don't!" she cried out tearfully for she really loved the paper boats she collected each year.

His eyes were fixed on the pendant hanging on her neck. He grabbed it and pulled it forcefully. The chain snapped. "Papa!" Gwen cried out.

"Useless necklace!" he roared. "Now, go buy me some apples!"

Gwen knew better than to stand up against her father. Despite his drinking, he had somehow maintained his battle-ready physique—he was easily the strongest man in the village, which was why the neighbours never intervened. They offered their sympathies in other ways: discount in the market, freebies… anything but direct intervention. Thus, Gwen took her cloak and basket and walked to the market.

The market was as busy and crowded as usual. Gwen clutched her basket closely and quickly made her purchase. She had no intention to stay long in a crowded place, although her house was not any safer.

_Perhaps I would go to the riverside for a spell… _she thought.

Gwen was too caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't really pay attention to her surrounding—don't do that, okay? She then bumped into somebody, knocking her basket off and all the apples inside falling to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she immediately apologized.

In front of her, there were three men with rough appearances. The man standing at the middle, the one she bumped into, glared at her. "Watch where you're going, lass!"

"Hey, isn't she…?" his companion trailed off as he took a closer look on Gwen. Gwen flinched as he moved closer, uncomfortable with their proximity. "…she's the seamstress' daughter!"

"Really?" the man at the middle said, lifting Gwen's chin up rather forcefully. "Oh, yeah, you're right—and she _is_ kinda pretty, just like they say…"

Gwen was shaking beneath her cloak.

"Well, well, you're forgiven… only if you're spending time with us after this," his tone changed drastically, but not to a more pleasant one.

Gwen carefully moved his hand away as she crouched down to gather the apples. The man was obviously displeased by her gesture, and he was about to grab her by force when another figure stopped him.

"Don't you see you make her feel uncomfortable?"

It was another man's voice. Gwen looked up, and she saw another figure in cloak. His hood was big enough to cover his eyes from the angle she was looking at. She saw him smiling, or more accurately smirking—and somehow she found that to be… charming.

"Who are you?! Show your face, you craven!"

"Tch. Don't act so high and mighty yourself," the cloaked figure replied, the smirk not leaving his face. "Do you really think you have what it takes to take me down?"

"What the—"

"I guess not."

Everything happened in a flash. Before anyone could react, the cloaked figure had already drawn his sword and placed it just right next to his opponent's neck. The three of them didn't have a chance to grab their own weapons.

"You will apologize," the cloaked man commanded. "and you will leave this lady alone in peace."

"D—Dammit! This isn't o—"

The cloaked figure pressed the blade slightly on the skin, not cutting into it yet, and then the other two men fell on the ground. "We apologize! Please don't kill our leader!"

"I'd suggest you find a better leader," he replied. "Leave. Now."

They scampered away, and all the while, Gwen was just transfixed at her place. She was only snapped back to reality when that man in cloak knelt down and helped her gathering the apples. With his help, Gwen could quickly finish.

She stood up and dusted her skirt when she noticed that he was standing across her, holding another red apple in his hand. "Oh, thank you," she said. "Thank you so much for… helping me with everything."

Just then, the wind blew from the opposite side and her hood fell, uncovering her face. Gwen, shy as she was, tried to cover her face, but the cloaked man had noticed her.

"Well, well… if the lady has uncovered her visage, wouldn't I be discourteous if I keep mine a secret still?" he said as he pulled away his hood with his free hand.

What was striking about him was his hair—it was as red as the apple in his hand. His eyes, on the other hand, were as blue as the background of her pendant, now gone from where it usually was.

"How about trading this apple with your name?" he offered, smirking. "I must say, you have beautiful ebony hair."

Gwen quickly put her hood back and ran pass through him. It wasn't that she was offended—she was too shy to reply.

The man sighed heavily as he took a bite from the apple she had left with him. "Will there be a next time?" he pondered aloud to himself as he, too, put back his hood over his head.

* * *

><p>Gwen stopped only when she reached the riverside. She panted, and her hood fell once more. There was nobody around, so she didn't really care. She placed the basket on the ground and walked towards the river. She bent her body forward to look at the shaky reflection of her face on the streaming water.<p>

_You have beautiful ebony hair._

Nobody had ever said that. Sure, they said she was pretty, beautiful… but they had never been so specific of what's beautiful about her. He, in one sentence, had.

She then heard the sound of beating hooves. Gwen turned and was stunned at what she saw.

The princess dismounted from her horse when she noticed the village girl and walked towards her. She didn't say anything—she was too shocked to open her mouth.

Gwen looked at her reflection on the water once more and then looked at the person walking towards her. They were identical.

"How could it be…?" Reine finally asked. "Who are you…?"

Gwen held her breath. _Why are strange things happening to me today?_

"Who says you can take your own sweet time?!" a hoarse voice interrupted them. Both girls turned around and Gwen found her father stomping towards them. His steps were unsteady, and he reeked of booze.

He grabbed the basket on the ground, but he didn't grab her. He grabbed the other girl and dragged her away.

"What the—?! Hey! Let me go!" she protested.

"Shut up!"

Reine's first reaction was to force her way out, obviously, but then when she turned around and realized that they _did_ look similar, another idea popped out in her mind.

She willingly followed the man she didn't know.

_I'm sorry, whoever you are…_

* * *

><p>Gwen, meanwhile, was still registering what was just happened. Her father, obviously drunk, had mistaken that other girl as her, and they were leaving fast.<p>

_Why she suddenly stopped resisting?!_ She thought, before she began chasing them.

"Hey, Reine, what the hell are you doing?!"

Gwen turned around to find the second son of the baron. She had heard about him—mainly of how he was so close to the Princess Royal. His family had been the landlords of this territory for generations, but this was the first time Gwen came face to face to one of its members. Gwen was stunned that she had forgotten her intention to chase her father.

Neil moved closer and was about to grab her hand when he realized something was wrong. Reine had worn a dark brown wig to conceal her hair, but that's not why he felt uneasy.

Gwen looked into his eyes. Amethyst, just like what people said of the family. It flashed of worry a few moments ago, but now she could only see anger and confusion.

"Who are you?!"

* * *

><p><em>By a twist of fate, and some daring decision that Reine made in a snap... they exchange places.<em>

_What will happen next?_

_Stay tuned to find that out!_

_Thanks for reading! Please rate and review! ^^_


	8. Small House, Big Room

_Hey guys, thanks for the read/reviews! ^^_

_ToOH: I see, I'll see what I can do about that! :D_

* * *

><p>The drunken man dragged her into a small house at the end of the road and threw her into a small room, which, she supposed, belonged to the real owner. The first thing that attracted her attention was the mess of paper on the floor. Reine carefully picked up one of the papers and she realized it was the paper boats that they floated for the ceremony each year. The paper used for the ceremony was one-of-a-kind, produced specifically to be able to float through the whole length of the river. Reine was sure that this was the same kind of paper, and she could still trace a faint folding line on the paper. She also saw the hardened wax on the paper.<p>

_She collected the paper boats? _She thought. _For what?_

Reine began to clear up the mess, pushing them to one side (she couldn't decide whether to throw those crushed paper boats away; it seemed that the real owner of these paper boats really cherished it). After that, she was left to her own thoughts once more.

_Right, I don't even know her name,_ she thought to herself. Reine then began to look around; perhaps there would be some clue as to what was the real owner's name.

It wasn't hard to look around, since the room only had a dresser, a single bed and a single mirror hung on the wall. Reine paused when she faced the mirror. She couldn't forget that girl, _We're so alike,_ she mused, as she ran her hand through her wig—which she wore that day to conceal her conspicuous hair. Reine remembered that girl was a brunette, too, but she bet that girl was a natural brunette. _If not for this…_

She couldn't suppress a playful smirk. _I wonder whether Neil knows…_

* * *

><p>"Where's Reine?!" he insisted.<p>

Trembling, Gwen pointed at the far end where Reine and her father had disappeared to earlier. "My house… is at the very end of the road," she said. "My father mistook her as me…"

Neil looked at the sky. The castle gate would be closed very soon, and that meant trouble. Besides, he knew Reine could resist the switch very easily if she had wanted to.

The question was: did she want to resist?

"Dammit! There's not much time—can you ride a horse?"

Gwen shook her head timidly and she heard the baron's son sighed heavily. "This is so troublesome," he scowled, before pulling her hand and dragged her to Reine's horse. "Step up," he instructed as he assisted her to sit on the saddle. Gwen followed his words, and before long she rode a horse for the first time in her life.

Neil fastened the rein of his own horse to Reine's before mounting Reine's stallion. They first rode towards the baron's residence. When the horse started galloping, Gwen felt her heart was being kicked out from her chest. She frantically looked for something she could hold on to, and the nearest was… the baron's son.

"You can… er… hold on if you want to," he said over the sound of the galloping stallion.

"R… right," Gwen murmured, while gingerly reaching out to the young man. Even with his consent, Gwen felt _wrong_ to hold on to the baron's second son. In the end, she simply gripped the sides of his shirt.

The baron's eldest son, Chase, was standing on the gate when they made it there. "If it isn't my favourite couple, the Dumb and Dumber!" he teased.

Neil stepped down from Reine's horse and gave his own horse to his brother. "Help me bring him to the stable."

"Eh? What happened to Reine? Finally make her weak on her knees?"

"Just… shut up," Neil growled.

Chase eyed the girl who was still sitting stiffly on the horse. Gwen immediately looked down. Chase had the same amethyst eyes as Neil, although his hair was softer than his younger brother, but both, in her mind… were devilishly handsome. They were even more handsome than their descriptions.

Chase turned towards Neil. "What happened to her? Did you gag her or what? Where's the usual comeback?"

"Gosh! Just shut up!"

Chase raised his brow. "What? You finally man up and that shuts the hell out of her?"

This time Neil simply ignored Chase and mounted Reine's horse back. Chase shrugged languidly. "Whatever, safe trip, Dumb and Dumber—and I haven't decided who's dumber between you two, by the way."

* * *

><p>Neil ushered her to a room filled with bookshelves with a study desk and an armchair at one corner of the room. There was a small coffee table and two armchairs at the centre of the room, while there was a fireplace at the other end of the room. Gwen gasped in surprise—this room alone was already larger than her house. Neil gestured to her to sit down next to the coffee table; she had never felt such a smooth fabric touching her skin.<p>

"Tell me the direction to your house," he said promptly.

She did so and he immediately told her what to do next. "If there's any servant that asked about your hair, just brush them off."

"The princess… is not a brunette?"

Neil paused for a moment. The colour of female royalties' hair was distinctive—and it seemed to be passed down only to the female members. He was surprised there was still someone who didn't know about it. He shook his head, though, to answer the poor girl.

_Even their voice sound similar… this might work_, he thought. _But, still, dammit Reine!_

Finally, the brunette braved herself to look up, finding Neil was gazing down at her. She trembled slightly, unaccustomed to such scrutiny. "W… What am I supposed to do?"

Neil groaned internally. They might look similar, or even sounded similar… but the way they spoke were… drastically different. Even a sick Reine wouldn't sound as soft as this girl.

However, there wouldn't be enough time to switch them again today without causing unnecessary ruckus. And then, there was still the Prime Minister. Neil hated the man to Hell and back—he had a hunch that the Prime Minister could never know about this girl.

_The meeting tomorrow is at nine in the morning,_ Neil thought. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that Reine had meant to switch her place with this girl. He gritted his teeth. _Dammit._

It was only then he realized that the girl had been looking at him. "I'll take you to Reine's room. You can rest there for tonight."

"Yes, sir…"

"And this is the hard part," he cleared his throat. "Tomorrow, she is supposed to meet someone… and there is no time to make the switch before that."

Gwen's face paled. "You don't surely mean—"

"Hell, yes, I do," Neil interjected sternly. "You're replacing her."

"But…"

"I will tell you what to do tomorrow," he said. "This room. Six in the morning."

Faced with such grimness, Gwen felt she had no choice but to obey. She nodded in defeat. "Yes, sir…"

Neil cleared his throat again. It was awkward for him, too, for someone with Reine's face to call him so… reverently. "In front of others… don't call me 'sir',"

"What should I call you, then?"

Neil shuffled on his feet uncomfortably. _Reine's really going to pay for this_, he thought inwardly. "Neil," he told the brunette. "And you will be addressed as 'Your Royal Highness'—so that you're not shocked."

Gwen nodded and Neil looked at her for a moment before finally remembered something. "What's your name?"

"er… Rei…ne?"

"No, your real name."

"Oh," Gwen replied sheepishly. "It's… Gwen."

"Right," he said. "If you have anything to protest, tell that to Reine—I mean, the Princess Royal."

Neil then led Gwen to Reine's room and let her in. Before he left, however, the village girl managed to muster up enough courage to ask him a burning question. She looked left and right; the hallway was empty except for them.

"Sir," she called faintly. "How… how do you know?"

"Huh?"

"That I'm not… the Princess Royal?"

* * *

><p>"What did Neil say?" Little Reine asked eagerly.<p>

The Queen, however, noted that the sky had long turned dark. "Well, it's past your bedtime."

Little Reine pouted. "Surely he didn't say _that_ to Gwen!"

The Queen laughed, imagining how hilarious it would've been it that was really what happened in the story. "No, dear, I don't think so," she replied. "But it really is past your bedtime—we shall continue tomorrow."

Daniel yawned and stretched his back like a cat. "That's a good idea… I'm getting sleepy myself."

The young princess yawned as well. "…Tomorrow?" she asked sleepily.

"Tomorrow," promised the Queen.

She tucked them in their bed and turned off the lantern before walking to her own bedroom. In her head, she tried to imagine what kind of an answer that Neil would have given Gwen just before she turned in for the day.

* * *

><p><em>Care to imagine what Neil's answer to Gwen's question?<em>

_Tell me what you think! ^^_

_Thanks for reading! Please rate and review! ^^_


	9. The Realization

_Hey guys, sorry it took me FOREVER to put this up, but here it is now! And for those following Under The White, maybe I'll work on that next! By the way, after a long and hard deliberation, I decided to change the framing method, details below. Hopefully it doesn't look too rushed. Thanks for waiting and Merry Christmas guys; consider this chapter as my belated Christmas gift to all of you! ^^_

* * *

><p>The Queen continued the tale to the children, picturing how the village girl replaced the princess for the meeting. The switch was eventually busted by the Prime Minister.<p>

"Oh no…" Little Reine covered her mouth in shock.

"But all ended for the better, though, since the King chose to marry Gwen for real, while Reine can choose whom she wants to marry."

"She chose Neil, right?" Little Reine asked sharply, as if she would personally chew the princess out if she chose anyone else.

"Of course," the Queen assured her. "And they live happily ever after."

The little princess grinned widely, satisfied with the conclusion. It was then their governess came to search for them—their next lesson would begin soon. Little Reine obediently walked towards the governess, but her brother remained with their mother a little bit longer. "Why, Dan?" the Queen asked.

"Is that it?" he asked. "The whole story?"

The Queen smiled, impressed. "No," she replied honestly. "It's the abridged version of what I know."

"Will you tell us the whole story?"

"Later, yes, when you are older."

"Why, Mother?"

The Queen stared into her boy's eyes, the gift from his father. "Tales are not just meant for children. Some tales carry to adulthood… consider what I tell you today as a prologue."

"Is that a promise?"

"On my heart," she promised him.

Finally satisfied, Daniel ran out to catch up with his governess and sister. The Queen then stood up and walked towards the bookshelf, skimming the covers until she found the book she was looking for. The cover was dark red with golden print, but when she opened the page it was handwritten. _The Princess and the Pauper: A Tale of Two Sisters_—that was the full title of the tale and the book she was holding now.

Sitting down on one of the armchairs in the study room, near the fire, the Queen opened the book carefully and skimming through the pages. She couldn't help but feel that, from this perspective, it was very easy to see that Neil had had some feelings for Reine. Then again, it was always easier to see something after you were removed from it. Reaching one page in particular, the Queen began to read:

* * *

><p>"Balance the books on your head."<p>

Gwen glanced upwards, trying to make sure that the book that Neil had placed beforehand was still stable—or at least relatively so—on her head. "Don't look up!" he immediately told her.

"Y—Yes, sir!"

Neil felt like pulling his hair out from his head now. "Don't call me 'sir', please, it's… getting awkward."

Neil crossed his arms while watching Gwen trying to balance herself to obtain the 'ideal' stance. Since early in the morning, the two had been practicing so that Gwen's disguise wouldn't be blown off. Neil had transformed overnight from a sword master into an etiquette master. Gwen tried to walk some steps forward with the book on her head, and actually she did a pretty good job—considering that she had no previous experience. Neil had noticed that even without this, Gwen's movement and gestures were already delicate and careful. He couldn't determine whether it was due to her natural disposition or because of her nerves and fear around him, but he couldn't care less as long as it worked.

After Gwen had managed to walk some distance away without the book falling, Neil took the book off her head and let her sit down to catch her breath. Gwen looked around nervously; she really wasn't not used to such a lavish environment. She tried to occupy her mind with something else, but nothing came up besides trying to talk to the baron's second son—the only one whom she could talk with quite honestly.

"You… seem to know a lot," she stammered. "About this…"

_What are you saying, Gwen?! Of course he does! He's a noble! _She chastised herself inwardly almost immediately after the sentence had left her mouth.

"Reine pestered me about it for _years_," he snorted.

"But, you listen to her, anyway…" Gwen pointed out innocently, stunning the baron's son.

Awkward silence quickly filled the empty space between them. Gwen, propelled by guilt and discomfort, tried to ask another question. "W-what kind of a person… the Princess Royal is, really?"

Neil didn't immediately answer her, but his brows were furrowed together. He then motioned to Gwen to follow him, and they walked towards the stable. He stopped in front of a stallion—slightly larger than the others—which Gwen remembered to be the horse she rode on to this castle. "This is Buche, Reine's most prized mount."

"She managed to tame it even when the Master of the Horses was too scared," he said. "This stallion sensed that Reine wasn't afraid of him, and yielded to her."

Gwen sighed in wonder. _How could I do an impression on someone like her?_

"No one had ever seen her tears either—well, perhaps except Her Majesty," he continued. "She'll just lock herself in her room if she wanted to cry. She would never show her tears to others."

Gwen glanced aside. The look in his eyes when describing the princess… somehow her heart ached when she saw it. It was not just a look of admiration; there was affection as well. And when friends were indeed supposed to be affectionate for one another, it was plain for her that the affection in his heart was not one of friends. It was that one-of-a-kind affection, reserved only to those one deemed worthy.

_No_, she told herself inwardly. _I could never do an impression on the Princess Royal._

She wished she could, but she knew with that kind of look in his eyes, it would never make it. She would never be good enough, in his eyes, to be the stand-in of the Princess Royal.

"King Allen Dominick," Neil muttered under his breath. "He is both a renowned diplomat and swordsman."

"Is there… any problem with it?" she asked.

The intel he had disclosed that the king was known to be a sharp judge of character with a terrifying insight on others. All would be going well if he had no idea regarding Reine's character.

Neil was doubtful that the other party hadn't done their homework yet before proposing such a bold move.

Neil looked at the girl. No, he couldn't burden her more that he already did. "You should start preparing yourself now…"

* * *

><p><em>It seems that the meeting will not go uneventful... but can it be that Neil is just being paranoid?<em>

_Stay tuned to find out!_

_Thanks for reading! Please rate and review ^^_


	10. Buds and Thorns

_Hey guys, happy new year! I'm sorry it took me this long to update, but here's another chapter! ^^_

_Guest: Happy new year too :D_

_Blue: hahaha, I don't intend to conceal the fact that Gwen is the other sister, anyway, since Gwen and Reine have always been sisters in my other stories ^^ but I hope it won't lessen your enjoyment of this story! And in response to your comment, this chapter is slightly longer than the previous one since we are slowly moving to the crux of the story! ^^_

* * *

><p>Neil escorted Gwen back to Reine's room, and as he had expected, the maids were already waiting for 'her'. "Just let them do their job," he whispered before he gave her back a light pat.<p>

Gwen took a sharp breath when she felt his hand on her skin, but she composed herself just as quickly and nodded. She stepped into the room and heard Neil closed the door behind her, her eyes scanning the lines of maids who were ready to carry out her duties. One of the maids who stood closest to her came up to her. "We need to hurry, Your Highness," she said.

"Ah, yes…"

They helped her to wash up and to put on her clothes. The hardest part was, of course, the corset. To ensure that the corset was tight enough, two people were needed to do the knots on the back and Gwen had to hold her breath for almost a minute.

"Please bear with this, Your Highness!" someone said when she saw her face was turning white. "It's almost done!"

Gwen could feel the last knot was being tightened just above her tailbone, and then there was a light pat on her lower back. "Great! Now, on to the dress!"

The brunette stood in front of a headless mannequin where the dress was hung. The dress was royal blue in colour, with elaborate array of crystals sewn on the bodice and the skirt, making an appearance of a starry night sky. "Ah, this is so beautiful…"

Gwen immediately covered her mouth when she realized that all of the maids were looking at her incredulously. "Y… yes?"

"Ah, no, nothing, Your Highness," one of the maids said. "It's just that… you rarely commented on your dress. You must be very nervous."

"O—oh… yes, yes…" Gwen curled a small tress of her hair.

"Oh, and your hair, Your Highness…" Gwen turned towards the source of the voice. She was older than the other maids—perhaps she was the matron? "Sir Daniel told us that you dyed it brunette because it is in fashion these days, right?"

_He did? Better just play along,_ she thought while nodding. The matron smiled. "I am glad you seem to take this meeting in consideration."

Gwen smiled wryly. _I wonder how the princess usually is._

With the help of the maids, Gwen wore the dress. She was initially worried that the dress wouldn't fit, and hence her cover would be blown off; however, her anxiety was nullified when the dress embraced her features just perfectly as if she was really meant to wear the dress. However, her anxiety resurfaced when the hairdresser was about to style her hair—she was really unaccustomed towards the gesture. "Can I keep my hair down?" she asked immediately.

The hairdresser eyed her curiously. "Not even a ponytail, Your Highness?" he asked. "I have already planned a style that wouldn't be too bothersome for you."

"Ah… I think… letting my hair down would be better."

The stylist turned his head towards the window, judging the weather. "If you say so," he conceded. "But, still, we need something to decorate your hair."

After some back and forth argument, they settled on a rose headdress on the side of her head—rose being the national flower of the kingdom was seen to be an apt decoration for the Princess Royal's head to meet her suitor.

Gwen tried to maintain her breathing as they began to put on makeup on her face. She closed her eyes, counted until one hundred before starting again backwards.

"And you're set," she heard one voice said and she braved herself to open her eyes. What she saw reflected on the mirror was not something she had expected—it didn't look like her at all. The figure staring back at her looked more like a doll with the white powder and red lipstick and all those accessories. Her ears felt heavy, unaccustomed to the weight of the earrings they had put on during her 'transformation'. Her head felt rather dizzy, too—the headdress was totally heavier than it had looked. The man behind her bent down, "Unexpectedly, brunette looks good on you, Your Highness."

One of the maids helped her to put on her heels before she stood and walked towards the door. She opened it and found Neil was standing waiting on the other side. He looked at her for a moment, and she saw his chest was raised slightly before it came to a complete stop and he became a still figure. His magenta eyes were fixed on her, and his mouth was slightly open. Gwen felt blood was rushing through her system when she saw him. She took a step forward towards him and extended her arm hesitantly. "N…Neil…?" she called nervously.

Neil blinked once, then twice, then he seemed to have gathered his senses back. "Yes, Your Highness," he said, clearing his throat. "Please follow me."

Neil offered her his arm, and after his eye signal Gwen took it albeit rather hesitantly. As they walked down the hallway, Gwen heard the hushed voices of the maids.

"…this must be hard on him…"

"I'd thought Her Majesty would've let the Princess Royal to be with him…"

Gwen glances towards Neil, who kept his eyes straight, unmoved, although she knew he could hear them as well. New thoughts began to surface in her head:_ So… they are more than friends? The Princess Royal and the baron's son? Is that why she switched place with me?_

"…don't wander off too far from the palace," he whispered in a low voice, snapping her back to the reality. "…just ask him to walk within the compound. Try the garden."

Gwen nodded. Whatever their reason might be, she was already involved in this. Perhaps… she could help them—no, she should help them… that was the right thing to do.

But, why she began to feel uncomfortable?

Neil let her arm go as he took a step towards a grand door. "He is already inside," he told her. "Good luck."

He pushed the door open while stepping aside, allowing Gwen an unobstructed view of the room. It was spacious, with tall glass windows that almost reached the ceiling on one side, providing generous sunlight pouring into the room. On the other side, several paintings were hung on the wall—mostly the paintings of the Royal Family.

He was standing under the shower of sunlight at the middle of the room, gazing up at one of the paintings. He wore a dark blue formal suit—the same colour with her dress. He stood still, as if he was not a human but rather one of the statues presented in the room. Gwen stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do. He seemed to notice her presence, though, and he turned to face her. The sun prevented her from seeing his full features—he seemed to have blended in with the light itself.

When she realized he was getting closer—he smelled of ripe apples, strangely— Gwen immediately curtsied. The young king politely returned her greeting with a respectful bow, putting his hand over his heart as he did so. "It is such an honour, Your Royal Highness," his voice was low and husky.

"The honour is mine, Your Majesty," Gwen replied in a low voice, hoping that she didn't make a fool out of herself. She stole a quick glance upwards and only then she could make out his face—mostly her eyes were nailed on his steel blue eyes… and now that she could see his shadow, his red hair seemed to be significantly darker.

He looked so much alike the young man who had saved her in the marketplace yesterday.

_Oh my god…_ she held her breath. _That can't be… I'm dreaming… he's a king, right?_

Gwen quickly straightened her legs. Fortunately, or not, her stiff corset helped her immensely—or forced, rather—to keep her back straight. Even so, and even with the heels (no, not so high, but definitely not flat either), she still needed to angle her chin upwards to see his face properly.

"I have been looking forward meeting you," the young king smiled. He exuded a completely different feel from Neil: warm, softly pulling… almost gravitational around him and Gwen couldn't tear her eyes away from his—especially when he smiled like this. "You are different from what I imagined you to be."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ah, pardon, milady… of course I meant no offense," he corrected himself almost immediately. "So… are we going to stay in this room?"

Gwen shook her head. "The garden is marvellous," she said, recalling what Neil had suggested to her earlier. "What about a walk around the garden?"

The king offered his hand to Gwen and subconsciously, Gwen glanced back at Neil. Neil made a quick signal to the girl to just take his hand—it was just polite to do it, anyway.

Gwen faced the king again, this time putting her hand on his open palm. The young king smiled.

Neil walked in front of them and led the couple to the garden. The garden was the pride of the palace, being filled with numerous kind of roses. There was a particular section in the garden called the Princess' Garden. For each time a princess was born in this realm, a new rose would be unveiled by the palace's rose breeder and would be named after the princess. The rose would then be planted in the Princess' Garden—and when the princess walked down the aisle, traditionally her bouquet would be made of the rose that took after her name.

Due to this tradition, the Princess' Garden was filled with roses of many colours—from the shades that were familiar to those which could only be found in this garden.

Gwen had never heard of it before. Her eyes were spoiled by the array of roses spread out before her—there were even purple or orange rosebushes. The air around them smelled unmistakeably of roses, and Gwen couldn't suppress a smile as she breathed in this new air.

On the contrary, King Allen had heard of the famed rose garden. His eyes rested on a certain rosebush; it was dark blue in colour. That certain bush stood out because the bushes around it were mostly of shades of red—in fact, it was placed between an equally dark red rosebush and a striking blood red rosebush.

"The blue rosebush is certainly interesting," the king commented. "What's the name of this certain rose?"

He turned to face Gwen, whose face began to pale due to the unexpected question. How could she know?

"It's Guinevere," Neil interjected quickly. "But I'd suggest that you didn't bring up the name in the court."

Allen turned to face Neil. "You must be The Honourable Daniel d'Evréux,"

"Yes."

"Thank you for the notice," he flashed a grin. "I'd keep that in mind."

Allen turned and faced the Guinevere rosebush again. He stole a glance at the princess next to him, noticing that her face began to regain its colour. "So, I guess… the bouquet would come from one of these bushes?"

Gwen stood still as sweat began to drench her forehead. "Your Royal Highness," she heard him spoke again. "Marriage for us… oftentimes cannot be about love and affection, sadly speaking. We do not live for ourselves—it is always for the people."

Allen glanced towards Neil as he spoke. As he had expected, the blond man stood still at his spot. He knew he could hear him perfectly—that was what he wanted, anyway.

"Before it is too late," he intentionally slowed down his words, so that they could hear him well enough. "Either pluck out the blooming bud… or spend the rest of your life watching that rose bloom together with its poisonous thorns…"

* * *

><p>The sound of beating hooves broke through the otherwise silent night on the countryside. Of course, Reine could hear it too. After making sure that the drunkard was fast asleep, Reine quietly made her way out from the house, wondering what it was about.<p>

Her day had been spent on trying to hold on her temper since her cooking had failed miserably. The latter part of the day was spent on bandaging her wounds—so now, her arms were wrapped tightly with bandages.

The sound of the horse was getting nearer, and Reine could see its figure from afar. It didn't take her long to recognize it, and she waved her hand excitedly.

Neil stopped in front of the house. "How's the meeting?"

"You owed that girl a lot," Neil told her. "But I couldn't switch you today… the king is staying for a few days so the guards are doubled."

"No worries," she waved her hand lightly. Much to her surprise, Neil grabbed it. "Hey!"

"What happened with this?" he asked in a harsh tone.

Reine pulled her arm away from his grip. "Things happened," she replied nonchalantly.

"Gwen will be working in the baron's household starting tomorrow."

"Huh?"

Neil rolled his eyes. "For easier switch later," he told her. "Chase will pick you up tomorrow."

"Does he know?" she asked in a low voice.

"I didn't tell him exactly, but you know him," Neil said. "He'll be on our side, I'm sure."

"Yeah, right…"

Neil looked at the girl in front of him and he remembered the king's words. Of course he realized that Allen had made it in such a way that he could hear them as well.

"Hey…"

"Hm?"

"If there's a beautiful rose, but surrounded with poisonous thorns… what would you do? Simply watch it from the distance, or will you hold it close?"

Reine raised her eyebrow. "Why suddenly…?"

"Just because," he interposed solemnly.

Reine tilted her head slightly to the side. She then sighed and took out her blade, which was previously concealed under her dress. "You remember this?" she asked.

"Eh?"

"I will remove the thorns," she replied without a hint of hesitation in her voice. "I will just cut the thorns off with this… then I'll hold that rose close. I can do that, right?"

Hearing her answer, Neil began to feel foolish. Of course she would answer that way—she's Reine, after all.

He put his hand on her head. "You can," he assured her. "…thanks."

Reine furrowed her brow. "Why are you thanking me all of a sudden?" she asked. "Weirdo."

Neil shrugged, ignoring her barrage of follow-up questions. If they had been in the palace, this would've been impossible in this hour of the day.

Perhaps, her plan wasn't as bad as he thought it was.

* * *

><p><em>Will Gwen's disguise be successful until the end?<em>

_And how will Neil and Reine withstand the 'thorns' that Allen had warned them about?_

_Stay tuned for the next update!_

_Thanks for reading! Please rate and review! ^^_


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